There are Worse Things
by Brandyllyn
Summary: It's Valentine's Day at Hogwarts and Snape is in charge against his will of course. Just what does Snape have against this holiday? Short Challenge response for Sevysgal


_Disclaimer: Much to my ever increasing dismay, I have no claim on any member of the HP universe. I'm going to go cry myself to sleep over that one now, I hope you're happy._

_Response to a challenge posted at Sevysgal  
1) Must involve Valentine's Day  
2) Snape must be the central character_

**There are Worse Things…**

_There were worse things in life than pink and purple hearts. There were worse things in life than chocolate and certainly worse things than singing cards. There were worse things in life than cupids. But nothing, I repeat nothing, could compare to the evil that was-_

"I take it by your silence you agree Severus."

Snape shook himself out of his silent ranting. "Agree to what Headmaster?"

Albus Dumbledore twinkled at him, never a good sign. "Why to be our Master of Ceremonies this Valentine's Day. Ermentrude was kind enough to volunteer you. Since you have no objections, I suggest we move on to the next matter of business. Has anyone an idea where Mr. Filch's brooms are disappearing off to? He's a bit worried…"

Snape growled in his throat. Ermentrude Sprout waved at him across the room, a satisfied smirk on her face. Snape glared in response. He knew better than to drift off during a meeting, but it was hard to concentrate on most of the senseless prattle of those around him.

Master of Valentine's indeed. Even the title didn't appeal. Nor did the idea of sitting in a gold and red throne conjured up at dinner for the occasion. The job also had more mundane elements. Seeing to the distribution of cards, rallying the cupids, decorations… at least as master of ceremonies, he might be able to insure that no-

Damn, the staff meeting had ended and he was still sitting there, almost as if he _wanted_ company. He snorted at the thought before sweeping off to his dungeon sanctuary.

He'd nearly forgotten about his commitment until the next week, and the actual day arrived. When he awoke, he found a set of pink robes with gold trim lying on the foot of his bed. _You have got to be kidding me_, he thought with a shudder. Fearful to even touch the loathsome object he murmured a hasty _Incendio_ and watched with glee as it disappeared into a puff of smoke. He stalked towards his first class, wondering who had taken over his duties from him, since it was obvious someone had. The halls were decorated and he could see the tell-tell signs of cupids hovering about. Was that Sir Rodney and the Fat Lady… better not to think of it.

Ordinarily, when the cupids came into his classroom, Snape would simply immobilise the first one and all thereafter would stay away. But not this year. He was Master of Valentine's and his classroom door bore the plaque to prove it.

Damn it to hell.

His position forced him to allow the infernal creatures with their sappy Valentines into his class, but they did not require that he allow his students to read said Valentines when they should be working and he gleefully deducted points from those that tried. Thankfully, as yet, no one had had the misfortune to receive a-

"Mr. Longbottom, if you were paying attention to your cauldron instead of some foolish hope that some idiotic girl might wish to romance you, you would know that it should be a deep burgundy at this point, not that hideous affront to the word green. Fifteen points from Gryffindor." Ah, that felt better.

He made it through most of the day without incident. No Valentine's pranks, no singing cards addressed to him and- thank the stars above- no…

Oh dear Merlin, they _had_ pulled out the throne.

It was a garish monstrosity of embroidered hearts and cupids gallivanting around on gilded wings. And it was taking the place of his chair. With as much dignity as he could muster, he slid into it, ignoring the invisible orchestra that sang bits of Tchaikovsky's "Capriccio Italien" as he did. He noticed the hushed silence that fell around the hall as they noticed his position. _One twitter, one giggle, one guffaw and I swear I'll…_

"Welcome to out Valentine's Day feast!" Dumbledore was announcing, "And please, let us show out appreciation for our Valentine's Day king, Professor Snape." He applauded, and after a moment, the student body joined in in half-hearted clapping as well. "Well, tuck in."

Snape, in the course of his life, had never seen pink meatloaf, and in that brief moment while he contemplated the object sitting complacently on his plate- heedless of the distress it was causing both him and those around him- he hoped never to see such a thing again. He reached for a goblet of pumpkin juice, but spluttered upon its acquisition. That was most certainly _not_ pumpkin juice. It tasted… berryish. Snape pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose and decided to wait it out. Dinner could seem interminable, but in reality it was barely an hour. Certainly he, of all people, had the patience to wait it out.

He nearly made it too. It wasn't until the final few minutes before he would be home free to retreat to the dungeons and the bottle of whiskey he kept for just such occasions as these that it happened. Dumbledore made some announcement about him performing his duties admirably and then _It_ appeared.

What is it? You might be asking yourself. To which our dear Potions Master would reply, 'Not it, _It_.'

It was grotesque. Its dead eyes stared out from their sunken matting of fur. Its nose was at angles with its face as though it had been in some fight with others of its race. Legs too short to ever support its mass stuck out from odd angles. Even the pink bow around its neck offended.

"Why Severus," Minerva cried next to him and reaching out to touch the fiendish creature, "that's got to be the most adorable teddy bear I've ever seen."

Snape nearly convulsed at the sound of its name.

His eyes had narrowed into slits. His breathing was coming in short pants. His knuckles were white where his fingers were gouging slivers from the table top.

"Make it go away." He whispered.

"I beg your pardon?" Minerva said, leaning in closer.

"Make it got away." He gritted out from between his clenched teeth.

"But Severus," she said, reaching for the monster, "it's lovely." She picked up the creature and shoved it toward him.

For the first time in his life without the aid of a _Cruciatus_, Snape did something he would never forgive Minerva for forcing upon him.

He fainted.


End file.
